A Good Day
by Merlin71
Summary: This is nothing but Shep whump just for the sake of Shep whump.


**Title: Another Good Day****  
****Author: Merlin7/Clarkangel****  
****Rating: T for language****  
****Disclaimer: Not mine.****  
****Archive: Anywhere****  
****Summary: This is nothing but Shep whump just for the sake of Shep whump. There is no plot. There is no deep meaning. There's not even any real angst, just a sliver of it maybe. Basically it's about the team/family thing I love about SGA. And Shep getting WHUMPED, just because I can. ****  
**  
_Dedicated to Titan, simply because she's so very awesome and puts up with me._

**A GOOD DAY**

John sat on the gurney, resisting the urge to swing his legs back and forth like a bored kid. Although he was feeling a bit bored, as he waited for his turn under the Ancient scanner. Rodney was in there at the moment, having insisted that Dr. Keller take care of him first since he was positive his ankle was broken. John didn't believe it for a minute, but since he only had his mission report to look forward too, after his check up, he figured he was cool with Rodney going first. Teyla hadn't gone on the mission, since she was pregnant and due in two months, and Ronon had walked away from the unexpected attack on MXC-655 without a scratch. No surprise there.

The attack, on the other hand, that had been a complete surprise. John had taken his team there, after Zelenka had informed Carter about spiking energy readings that might possibly lead them to a worthwhile discovery. Or not. The energy spikes turned out to be buried electronic explosives. Booby traps.

The terrain of MXC-655 was both rocky and forested, which meant they hadn't been able to take a Jumper. Which meant hoofing it back to the gate, after they managed to avoid blowing themselves up. They had been about twenty yards from the gate when they were attacked by a group of men that might not have outgunned them, but they sure as hell outnumbered them and they were fierce fighters. John had ordered Rodney to the gate while he and Ronon laid down cover fire and did some hand to hand combat when necessary.

Rodney had stumbled and hurt his ankle, distracting John with his cry of pain so that one of the bad guys got in a good slug to his temple which had taken him down, and had followed through with a kick to his ribs. Not one of John's better days. But Ronon had stunned the bad guy, had scooped John up onto his feet so they could keep shooting and running, and Rodney had the gate dialed and ready when they reached him.

Which brought John up to his current place in the infirmary, waiting his turn for scanner time. He thought about stretching out and dozing but his ribs protested when he did little more than shift around on the gurney. So he stayed put.

Almost on cue, Dr. Keller appeared with Rodney in tow.

"He okay?" John asked, starting to nod at McKay but changing his mind and pointing instead. Nodding made his head throb.

"He's fine," Keller replied, patting Rodney on the shoulder. "He twisted his ankle but there's no sprain or break so I wrapped it and gave him some Tylenol and if he takes it easy for a few days he'll be good as new."

John grinned at Rodney, who was sucking in a breath in preparation of blasting Keller in some regard. It was time to cut him off at the pass. "Nice work back at the gate, Rodney," John drawled. "You worked through the pain and got the gate dialed in a timely fashion. Saved my ass."   
Rodney exhaled in a huff, glaring at John as if fully aware of the fact he was being patronized. Still, he shrugged it off, flapping a hand in John's direction. "Hurry up and get your scan thing done. You owe me a rematch, messhall, one hour. Don't be late." With that Rodney shuffled an about face and stalked off, not even limping.

"Rematch?" Keller queried, as she gripped John's left bicep and helped guide him off the gurney.

"Chess," John replied, only to hiss out a breath as his feet his the ground. The movement jostled his ribs and jarred his head, sending a spike of pain through his temples and making him reel from a sudden bout of dizziness.

"Colonel!" Keller leaned into him, trying to keep him on his feet.

John locked his knees, grabbed behind him for the gurney, and managed to steady himself. "Sorry," he apologized, relieved when the world stopped tilting. "Stood up too fast."

Keller eyed him for a long moment then she patted his hand, the one gripping the gurney. "Stay put a second, I'm going to get a wheelchair."

"I don't need a wheelchair!" John protested, shifting to follow Keller as she stepped around him. Shifting hurt his ribs and his head swam a bit, and he gripped the gurney hard enough to turn his knuckles white, but he stayed on his feet, thereby proving his point. But given the look on Keller's face, John knew he was going to lose the fight.

"Stay put," Keller repeated, then she was gone.

John didn't get a chance to miss her. She was back in a moment, pushing the dreaded wheelchair. "I swear I can walk to the scanner," he insisted, even as she positioned the chair next to him and locked the brakes.

Moving to his good side, Keller peeled John's fingers off the gurney and gently nudged him towards the chair. "Since I have the medical degree, how about I make the wheelchair call, Colonel?" she countered, her tone clearly stating that she was not making a suggestion.

So John let her ease him down into the chair, shifting a bit to keep pressure off his ribs, then she was pushing him to the back of the infirmary where the scanner was waiting. "I can get out of the chair and on the table by myself," John insisted, when she stopped the chair by the bed and leaned down to help him. "I really did just stand up too fast."

"You also really did get slugged in the head with a blunt object and kicked in the ribs with a heavy booted foot," Keller shot back.

"Ronon is so in trouble," John hissed between gritted teeth as he pulled himself onto the scanner bed. 

"He's just looking out for you, Colonel," Keller calmly replied. "It's what team mates do. It's what you do for your team."

John couldn't deny the truth of her words, so he said nothing as he let her ease him down flat. As Keller moved back to set up the scanner, John closed his eyes. With the adrenaline rush long gone, he felt tired and achy and he had a sinking feeling he wouldn't be meeting Rodney for the rematch.

What felt like a heartbeat later, Keller was by his side, helping him to sit up.

"We're done?" John asked, feeling a bit groggy as he sat up. That is until his ribs pulled and he had to grit his teeth against the sudden burn of pain scorching his side. Sitting upright wasn't helping his head all that much either.

"We're done," Keller confirmed. She looked a bit grim as she helped him off the table and guided him back to the wheelchair.

John sat down without a fight, because he was wise enough to know Keller would win any and all battles right now. "I'm not leaving, am I?"

"Not tonight," Keller confirmed. "You have a mild concussion and three cracked ribs. I'm going to bind your ribs and give you something for the pain. You'll be my guest overnight for observation."

"Crap!" John hated the infirmary and he knew he had a night of being woken up every hour on the hour in front of him. Then he remembered. "I need to contact Rodney about the chess match." John looked up at Keller and gave her puppy dog eyes. "Unless we can play here? I'm not tired enough to sleep yet and Chess isn't exactly a physical game." Truth be told, he was way too wound up to even considered sleeping, and just lying about would drive him crazy.

Keller was silent as she pushed him over to the bed in the far corner, his usual resting place when in the infirmary. John winced as he noticed scrubs lying on the blanket, waiting for him. Keller parked the chair and moved to stand before him. "I know your team will want to keep you company for a while, so I'll allow them to bring dinner and you and Mckay can play chess for a little while. But I expect you to stop if it wears you out and to tell me when you're hurting."

John could live with that. "Deal, Doc. I promise to be a model patient."

A decidedly unladylike snort rent the air as Keller shook a finger at him. "Just be honest with me, Colonel. Let me do my job while you're in here and I'll be happy. Because we both know you're not going to be good."

"Hey!" John protested, but with a grin crooking his mouth. "I think I resemble that remark!" But the fact that she was teasing him a bit made John feel better. He was hurting, but he knew he'd heal up fine and that he could recoup in his room. So Keller playing with him a bit gave him hope that he could charm his way back to his room first thing in the morning.

"You most certainly do resemble it, Colonel," Keller conceded, taking his arm to help his rise. "Get changed then I'll wrap your ribs. Need any help?"

John reached for the scrubs, being careful to reach with his good side. "I think I can manage, but I'd really love to shower first?" He launched the puppy dog eyes at her for good measure. "All that running and fighting left me feeling gritty and a bit rank."

Keller heaved a bit of a melodramatic sigh. "Fine, you can take a quick shower. I know you military types are used to the quick part." She tapped her watch. "You have five minutes, starting now, before I come barging in to check on you."

"Make it ten?" John was sore enough to know he wouldn't quite make getting washed up and dressed before his time was up. And the thought of Keller barging in on him freaked John out more than a little bit.

"Nine minutes and thirty seconds," Keller counted.

As John had no doubt but that she would follow through on her threat, he made a beeline for the bathroom. Which, given how slow he was forced to move thanks to his headache and sore ribs, left him with about seven minutes to take care of business. The two minutes it took to relieve his bladder, get dressed and in the shower, left John feeling a bit shaky. He didn't let that deter him, however, as he scrubbed shampoo through his hair, used the lather along with a few swipes of soap to wash up, then rinsed from head to toe and stepped out.

Not wanting to jinx himself, he ignored his watch and concentrated on getting dressed. Generic boxers were mixed in with the scrubs, which meant he'd been a visitor of the infirmary enough times for Keller to get to know his quirks and quibbles. All of which might have bothered John a lot more than it currently did, if he hadn't felt like shit warmed over and shit on again.

The ache in his head had turned into a steady, pounding, throb of agony, which sent off a chain reaction. Every move he made he made while getting dressed aggravated his ribs to the point where he couldn't take a deep breath. The combination made his insides coil with nausea, which he couldn't even breathe through because it hurt too damn much to draw breath.

In the end the nausea won and John ran out of time. When Keller came barrelling through the door, John was on his knees and emptying his stomach into the toilet.

He didn't argue when Keller moved to support him, or when a nurse appeared and helped the good Doc to guide John over to his bed. Once he was settled against the pillows, it was a relief to let the nurse smooth cool, damp cloth over his face while Keller hooked him up to an IV.

"I'm going to give you something for the pain and once it take effect we'll bind your ribs," Keller was saying, as she fussed over him.

John waggled the fingers of his IV-free hand to let her know he'd heard her. All he cared about right now was trying to breathe without feeling like he was going to suffocate or puke again.

Whatever Keller gave him in the IV worked pretty fast, because it felt like only a heartbeat later when coolness seeped into his veins, gently washing away the worst of the pain and, with it, the nausea.

"Better.." John muttered, without being asked.

"Good." Keller made enough noise as she moved around his bed for John to keep track of her even with his eyes closed. She clicked up the side rails before speaking again. "I have a feeling your concussion is more serious than I thought, Colonel," she stated.

John wasn't going to argue with her. All he wanted to do was sleep right now. "Got a harrrd head," he slurred, as the pain meds really kicked in.

Keller chuckled, keeping her voice low, no doubt in deference to his head. "Be that as it may, I'm going to run a few more tests and draw some blood. Cover all the bases, as it were."

"Just like Carsshon," John whispered, feeling a bit like giggling as he heard how distorted his words sounded in his head.

"I intend to do my best to live up to his standard," Keller vowed. She then shushed him when he would have replied. "Rest, Colonel, while you can. I have a feeling you're going to have a rocky road ahead of you."

John let his body melt into the mattress, more than willing to slip into soothing darkness. But he felt the need for the last word. "S-story…of…my life," he breathed.

Then he drifted away.

OoO

It was the night from hell for John, at least for the first half. He managed to sleep for two hours before Keller woke him up to flash her penlight in his eyes and ask a few questions. He then dozed for about another hour before his stomach decided it needed to expel the few sips of water he'd had at the last wake up.

That moment in his life had truly sucked. Once he was done trying to upchuck his insides, he was up for the night. All the heaving and gagging made his ribs burn with pain, his head felt like someone was pounding nails into his skull and his stomach was coiled into knots so tight, John was pretty sure he wasn't going to eat again. Ever.

The only time he could remember spending a more miserable night was when he'd been changing back from bug to human. Not a night John wanted to think about.

Keller came gliding over to his bedside, as John shifted and bit back a moan. "Time for another dose of pain meds, and I have a little something to help the nausea."

"I knew I liked you for a reason, Doc," John teased her. He watched her empty one syringe after another into his IV port, and he felt relief loosen tense muscle as the wash of coolness spread through his veins, easing the pain to a more bearable level. Shifting to try and find a more comfortable position still hurt like a bitch though.

"Breathe through it, Colonel," Keller advised, as she rubbed his shoulder.

John appreciated her bedside manner, and might have told her so if he wasn't gritting his teeth so hard against another wave of burning pain. But it finally eased as he resigned himself to lying on his back. "That sucked," he muttered.

Keller nodded. "I bet it did." She smoothed his blankets and refilled his water cup. "Can I get you anything?"

"Aren't you off duty yet?" John countered. "It's got to be about 2 am, right?" He wished they hadn't stripped him of his watch. He hated not knowing what time it was.

"Something like that," Keller allowed. "I've been dozing. I just want to keep an eye on you."

John grimaced. "I don't do tricks," he drawled.

Keller actually chuckled at that "You do one hell of a vanishing act, from what I've heard."

"Don't believe everything you hear," John advised her. His eyelids felt heavy and he hoped against hope that he would fall asleep and drift through the worst of the pain and suffering he knew awaited him. He was almost at the drift off point when a thought occurred to him. "I'm still getting released tomorrow, right?"

"We'll see what the morning brings, Colonel," Keller replied, somewhat evasively. "Just sleep now." She turned off the small over head light then silently drifted away.

As good an idea as sleep sounded, and despite the meds, John found himself unable to drift into a restful slumber. Dreams invaded the darkness of his mind, shifting him through horror-movie moments from his very real past. 

About the time his dreams hit the replay button of when he'd been - repeatedly - fed on by by Kolya's pet Wraith, John jolted awake. He found himself swallowing hard to force back the bile that crawled its up his throat. The memory of that particular horror was too fresh and too raw. To the point where he had to yank down his scrub top and stare at his smooth chest, to convince himself it was only a dream.

He was trembling, staring at his hands as he laced his fingers together in an attempt to stop shaking. It didn't work. The tension he was feeling made the pain in his temples spike, which added to his nausea. It was a viscious circle and John wasn't sure how to break it.

"Dammit!" He muttered to himself as he drew back the covers and slid his legs over the side of the bed. He needed to be in motion, to walk off the shakes. He'd run if he could but he knew he wasn't in any condition to push himself that hard. Not without disastrous results, and he wanted out of here asap.

With that end result in mind, John stood up, cradling his bound ribs, and pressed a hand to the bed to steady himself until a wave of dizziness passed. The floor was cool against his bare feet, but doable, even though it made him shake a little harder. At least it was for a different reason.

Once he was able to stand without support, John grabbed his IV bag off the hook and headed for the back of the infirmary. He knew he ran the risk of getting caught out of bed, so he might as well have a good excuse. A trip to the bathroom was both in order, and would cover his ass.

He was still shaking when he got there, but it felt good to be moving. Managing the IV proved tricky, so John just disconnected himself, not really caring that Keller was going to yell at him. He wasn't sick so he really didn't need it. Truthfully he was feeling sluggish from the pain meds, and whatever else she'd been giving him, so getting that stuff out of his system was for the best anyway.

Now free from the tubing, John answered the call of Mother nature, washed his hands, splashed cold water on his face while wincing through the movement, then turned and headed back out.

To find Keller waiting for him.  
John grimaced. "Uh…hi. Had to use the bathroom. I'm good, by the way. You?" He realized he was babbling a bit, but he figured a preemptive strike in his own defense was probably the way to go.

Apparently it wasn't, since Keller was still glaring at him.

"I'm pretty sure you know how to use the call button, Colonel," she replied, her tone more than a little frosty.

"I didn't need any help," he protested. "I feel better now. I'm good to go. Seriously. And since I'm already up, you could just release me back to my room. I'll rest better there anyhow."

Keller eyed him, her skepticism written all over her face. She wasn't even trying to hide it. "Funny, but you look pale and shaky and like you need to be in bed and under observation to me."

Heaving a sigh, John locked eyes with the Doc. He was going to be very honest with her. "Look, you said I have a concussion and I know my ribs are battered. I'm not an idiot. I know I need to take it easy, and I will. I want back through the gate, Doc. So, I promise if you let me go back to my room, I'll take it easy and let myself heal. Despite what you might have heard, I do know my limitations." He was watching her carefully as he spoke, trying to gauge her reactions. Only she wasn't giving anything away.

After a long moment of silence between them, Keller nodded. Curtly. "I'll release you to your room, but only if you agree to daily check ins. And you call me if anything feels wrong or you get worse."

"Deal." John was quick to agree and he intended to bide by her rules. Mostly. He wouldn't mess with his health, because he needed to be one hundred percent to do his job. But he knew his body better than Keller did. He knew how hard he could push and he knew when he needed to back off and chill. Offering a hopeful smile he asked, "So I can go now?"

"You can go." Keller didn't sound happy about it, but she wasn't backing out of the deal. "I'll get your boots. The floors are cold." She started to go but turned back to waggle a finger at him. "No playing hero with your health, Colonel. You need to take it easy and to keep your check ins. I want you to get some sleep and make sure you eat and I expect you back here before suppertime."

John nodded, regretting the movement as it sent off sparks of pain in his temple. But he plastered on a smile and breathed through the pain without letting on. "Will do, Doc. Thanks."

Keller made a face. "Just don't make me regret my decision, Colonel. I will make your life miserable if you do."

It was a promise that John fully believed she would keep. "I'll be good," he assured her. He was relieved when she led him over to the cabinet in her office and a moment later he was stepping into his boots. Despite the throbbing in his temples and the fact that every breath made his ribs ache, John felt relief washing through him. In just a few minutes he would be back in his room and finally able to get some real rest.

But his relief was short lived when he turned around to see Keller waiting for him with the wheel chair. 

"It's the chair or you stay here, Colonel," Keller said, before John could protest.

"I can walk just fine," he argued anyway. "I didn't break my legs."

Keller merely shrugged. "My way, Colonel, if you want to hit the - figurative - highway." She nudged the chair towards him. "Sooo…What's it gonna be?"

John knew when he was beat. But he wasn't very gracious about giving in. In fact he downright pouted as he lowered himself into the chair. He probably would have whined about it too, but he was wise enough to bite his lip and remain silent as Keller wheeled him through the infirmary doors.

And right over to where Ronon was propped up against the far wall. 

"What are you doing here?" John queried, even though he could guess at the answer. No doubt Keller had called for reinforcements the moment she'd discovered his empty bed. Obviously his rep for disappearing from the infirmary had preceded him. 

"Wasn't doing anything, so I figured I'd give you a ride home," Ronon rumbled, as he pushed off the wall and over to John's side. He nudged Keller aside and took position behind the chair, grabbing the handles. "Ready to go?"

John caught himself before nodding. "Ready," he replied, smoothly. He felt Ronon give a push then they were off down the corridor. He had lost track of the time, and just realized he'd left his watch back in the infirmary. Even so, John's body clock told him it was early morning. The deserted corridors were a bit of a clue as well. "You're up extra early," he commented to Ronon, as the Satedan strode down the corridor, long strides eating up distance, so that they reached the transporter in record time.

Ronon shrugged. "Wasn't sleeping anyway."

"Bad dreams?" John asked, because sometimes they talked about those things. Not in depth conversations, but simple comments with details a given. They were both soldiers,   
so they understood bad dreams.  
"Just thinking about stuff," Ronon countered, shifting the wheel chair so John could make an easy exit.

Smiling his gratitude at Ronon for letting him ditch the wheelchair, John stood up slowly and hugged his side as he stepped up into the transporter. He moved into the corner so Ronon could lift the chair in and crowd in behind it. A moment later John touched the panel. "So…what stuff were you thinking about?"

Ronon shrugged. "You shouldn't have gotten hurt back there. I should have been more careful."

"You did your job back and saved my ass doing it," John replied. "A bump on the head and sore ribs are a fair trade off." He broke off to shake a finger at Ronon. "Besides which, I can take care of myself."

"I know that." Ronon was nothing if not succinct.

They reached their stop and stepped off, John moving slowly towards the door at the end. He thought it open as he reached it and stepped inside. He glanced at his laptop, but knew Keller would inform Carter that he was off duty, so his report could wait. Still, a part of him was tempted to fire it up and just get it over with.

Ronon was right behind John, pushing the wheel chair out of the way into a corner. "Keller said you're supposed to rest," he commented, following John's gaze.

"Yeah." John turned away and went to his bed, slowly easing himself down, wincing all the way.

"She gave me these." Ronon set a bottle of pills on the bedstand. He was watching John closely. "You're supposed to take two then get some sleep."

John toed off his boots then sank back against the pillow. He grabbed the end of the blanket and drew it over his legs. He felt too warm to get under the covers. Eyeing the pills he drawled, "I'll take him later…if I need them." He didn't think Ronon would rat him out. The Big guy wasn't big on pill taking either. One more thing they had in common.

Ronon watched John, arms crossed over his chest, as if waiting on him for something. But after a moment he just nodded and turned to go. "Check on you later," he called over his shoulder.

John knew he didn't need to reply, so he simply willed the lights off and closed his eyes.

OoO

He dreamed again. This time about Heightmeyer and Rodney dying. He dreamed about his doppelganger at least once a week. Which was a distinct improvement considering for the first month after it happened, he had dreamed about it every night.

Jolting awake at the moment when Keller pronounced Rodney dead, John sat up, biting back a moan at the pull in his ribs. His heart was thudding hard in his chest, making him pant hard to catch his breath. Which made his ribs burn with pain. Once he got his breathing under control, John reached for the pills on the bedside table and popped three of them, washing them down with a few swigs from a bottle of water.

He was too wired to even try to go back to sleep, so John figured he might as well grab a shower, get dressed and scrounge some food. Getting up hurt and made him curse a bit, especially when he lurched sideways and had to press a hand to the wall to stay upright. When the vertigo passed he crossed the room and rummaged in his sock drawer to find his spare watch. He wasn't sure when he'd fallen asleep, but it was after noon and he hoped once the pills kicked in he'd feel better. A shower and food had to help. That way when he checked in with Keller before dinner, she'd let him off the hook.

To that end, John pulled out clean clothes and headed for the bathroom. Showering wasn't much fun, because everything seemed to pull and hurt, but he felt more human once he was done. Getting dressed wasn't much of a picnic either, but he felt better just being up and dressed. His stomach felt a bit off, but he was pretty sure a sandwich would help.

John glanced in the mirror before stepping out of the bathroom, grimacing as how pale he looked. His hair was standing on end, more than usual, but he didn't care enough to even make the attempt to tame it. Lifting his arms hurt. Washing and drying his hair with a concussion hadn't been one of his better ideas either. But he was as good to go as he was going to get.

Only by the time he reached his door, he was ready for another nap. Maybe lunch could wait. John had just turned back towards his bed when the doorbell rang. He thought it opened and wasn't all that surprised to see Teyla standing there, along with Ronon. They both carried trays with sandwiches and milk.

"You are awake, John," Teyla said, smiling warmly. "I was hoping we would not have to wake you."

"Nope, I'm up." He stared at the food. "Uh…I take it you brought lunch?"

Teyla nodded. "Rodney suggested it after Dr. Keller told us that you were resting in your room."

John was surprised to hear that. "Soooo, where is Rodney? He doesn't usually pass up lunch."  
"I'm here!" Rodney sounded out of breath as he came rushing down the corridor. He skidded to a halt next to Teyla, reaching out to snatch a cookie off the tray. He took a big bite and chewed as he studied John. "You look like shit. Shouldn't you be in the infirmary? And, for the record, I'm not letting you off the hook with the chess match." He sprayed cookie crumbs as he spoke.

"I'm ready when you are," John drawled. "How about after we eat?"

Rodney nodded. "Fine by me." He stepped forward, nudging John out of the way as he entered the room.

John stepped back, realizing he was being a bad host by making Ronon and Teyla stand there with loaded trays. "Sorry, come in." As Teyla entered, John tried to take the tray.

Teyla, gracefully, sidestepped him. "Just sit, John. I have it." She moved to the table in the corner, followed by Ronon.

"Thanks for this guys," John said, as he watched the simple feast spread out. Then he was settled into a chair by Teyla and a sandwich, milk and cookies placed before him. But John didn't start eating until the others joined him. He didn't eat much as he listened to Rodney complain about some new engineer, but the company was nice. Sitting up and trying to eat with sore ribs and an aching head wasn't much fun though.

Teyla, being Teyla, was the first to notice his discomfort and call him on it. "Perhaps you should lie down, John," she suggested. Although she wasn't actually giving him an option. Before John knew it she had him out of his chair and lying down against a mound of pillows.

"Did you take your pills?" Teyla gestured to the bottle on the bed table.

"I did," John confirmed. He watched as she fussed with his blankets, draping two over him after tugging off his boots. It made him a bit uncomfortable, even though this wasn't the first time she'd done that for him. Teyla had a great bedside manner and she was more than happy to take care of any one of them when needed. John was a bit disgruntled that he needed it now, but he didn't comment on it. It wasn't Teyla's fault he'd gotten the crap beat out of him. It wasn't anybody's fault. Sometimes shit just happened, and sometimes John wondered if he didn't have a damn target painted on his forehead.

"Can I get you anything?" Teyla was asking.

John had to stifle a yawn before he could reply and he wondered just what pills Keller had given him, because he was suddenly feeling very sleepy. "No, I'm good. Sorry I'm such lousy company."

Teyla smiled and reached out to pat his arm. "It is fine. We will come back later and check on you."

"You don't have too." But John knew they would.

Ronon was up and grabbing the trays. He stopped by John's bed. "I'll be back to take you to your check in. Sleep well." Then he was gone.

Teyla followed him out, both of them disappearing before John could reply. They were sneaky like that.

Which left Rodney, who was eating another cookie. He didn't move from the table other than to reach over for John's lap top. He opened it up and started typing. Totally ignoring John.

After a few moments of fighting off sleep, John asked, "Rodney, why are you still here?" Because he really wanted to go back to sleep now. When he had his check in with Keller later, he was totally going to ask her what she had slipped him. Whatever it was, it was good stuff. The throb in his head and the ache in his ribs had eased and he felt warm and lethargic and ready to drift away.

"I'm working," Rodney said around a mouthful of cookie. "Be quiet and go to sleep."

"Don't you have a lab for that?" John heard how slurred his voice was, but he didn't care.

Rodney snorted. "All I need is a lap top. I'm sticking around for our chess match."

John thought he might have giggled, because he was feeling a bit of a buzz at the moment. He shifted onto his good side and mumbled,"Thanks…for sticking around." He didn't need a baby sitter, but the company was nice.

"Go to sleep," Rodney repeated.

John smiled and did as he was told. And this time he didn't dream.

OoO

Three days later he was cleared for light duty. His team were still hovering around him, but not quite as obviously as before. Still, they were waiting for him in the messhall and were happy to hear the good news.

"We could do some stretching exercises later," Teyla offered. "If you're feeling up to it."

"Sounds good," John replied, because he knew it would help keep him limber and less sore overall. Because he had every intention of being gate ready in one week, not the two Keller had projected.  
"Should I wake you for a run in the morning?" Ronon interjected.

"Make it a jog and you're on," John replied, as he split open his blue berry muffin.

Rodney was working his way through a second muffin, but he looked up from his laptop long enough to ask, "Rematch in one hour?"

John had beaten Rodney three times in the past three days, so he knew his friend was itching for another shot at him. He was happy to oblige. "Make it two hours on the balcony. I have a staff meeting with Carter in twenty minutes."

"Have fun with that," Rodney replied, smirking.

"I believe you have a staff meeting tomorrow," John countered, with a smirk of his own.

Teyla rolled her eyes and reached for her juice, but she was smiling.

John caught her eye and smiled back. "I'm gonna go grab another cup of coffee and catch some air," he said, rising to his feet. He grunted as his ribs pulled a bit, but waved off the concern of his friends. "I'm fine, I just moved too fast." He was careful as he grabbed his tray and deposited it in the bin before grabbing a mug of coffee on his way out.

He sipped as he strolled to the balcony and discovered it was already occupied. "Colonel," John offered in greeting.

Carter smiled and raised her own mug of coffee in salute. "Nice day today, Colonel."

"So far so good," he agreed, as he joined her at the railing.

"How did the check up go?" Carter turned to study him.

John grinned. "I'm sure you got the update from Keller, but I'm fine."

Carter seemed satisfied by what she saw. "Good. Any plans for today?"

"Nothing much beyond whupping Rodney at chess again after our meeting." John was looking forward to getting Rodney riled up again. Truthfully, they both enjoyed the challenge, at least he knew he did.

"I never pegged you for a chess player," Carter mused. "Maybe we could play some time."

John eyed her carefully, wondering if she was setting him up somehow, but she looked sincere. "We could probably do that."

Carter eyed her watch. "Almost time for the meeting. I'll leave you to enjoy the rest of your coffee. See you in a few."

"See ya," John replied, his eyes on the water instead of her exit. He closed his eyes and inhaled the fresh air. He was tired, having suffered another night of nightmares, but it was a good tired. The kind of tired that reminded him he was still alive and that was a good thing.

Swallowing the last of his coffee, John gave himself another moment to enjoy the quiet, then he slipped inside and headed for the conference room.

He had the feeling it was going to be a good day.

**THE END**


End file.
